#im ignorring you all!

[k3n-dyll]

I keep saying it but I miss old fandom, what happened to us. Y'all make everything into a morality issue now

"That ship/dynamic is toxic! You're a bad person!!"

Are they both adults? Are they both fake? Yes? Okay then stfu I beg

[inkskinned]

you said you were stuck in a time loop, which was fine. i feel like late-stage capitalism has us all in a time loop, ammiright? you came barging in at 5:33. in the morning. i hadn't even processed the idea of coffee.

but you had this look of utter panic in your eyes. terror like the ocean. you grabbed my cheeks. im in a time loop.

i don't know why in movies the first reaction is to deny it. when someone is panicking like that, it's not appropriate to ask them to calm down. it didn't matter if i believed it, what mattered was that you believed it so much that it was consuming you.

so here we are. i pour you some of the dark roast. "you look like utter and entire hell," i say.

you push your fingers into your eyes. "you always say that."

i try to think of something funny to say that i wouldn't have said on previous time loops, but jokes don't land without the proper timing (lol). "remind me to think -"

"-yeah, of a joke that only works in the future. and before you say anything, i know you're pissed i just stole your punchline." you bolt the coffee, which is wild. it's very hot. you don't seem to notice.

i blow on mine to cool it down. i both am very pissed at you and also i can't see you in this amount of panic without wanting to help. but i'm also not really sure what we are, not since i saw you kiss her like that, no offense. it just was like, kind of rude when you knew i liked you.

and besides. i'm just like, barely a person. i write omegaverse fanfiction. i love the concept of a time loop, but what the fuck am i gonna do? send an alpha in there? i open my mouth.

you point at me. "you're about to ask why me. and then say some disparaging shit about yourself. i'm just a nerd who plays dnd or something. that self-own is slightly different each time." you sigh. "i know you think you can't really help me. i don't know who can help me. i only came to you because you fucking believe me." you check your watch, sigh, and throw your head back. you cover your eyes with one hand. "i've come here on 26 separate revolutions," you say. "you have believed me every time. and yeah, i have no idea how you fit into this but i just -" you sigh again. "i just like fucking talking to someone about it."

"do you need more cof-" i start, but you're already holding the empty cup out. i frown at it. "you're not getting any more until you promise not to bolt this one like an animal."

you laugh a little and sit up, pushing your hair out of your face. "okay, that's new dialogue. but to be fair to you, i'm not usually this rude. i'm still pretty new at all of this." you check your watch again. another sigh. i guess you're cruising for a personal best in the Sigh Olympics.

i almost tell you im not an NPC but i've played enough video games to know i'm very much an NPC. i pour you another cup. "so what happens in the loop?"

"really bad explosion." you mutter into the mug. you put your elbows on the table (rude) and bury your face in your arms like an angsty teenager. one hand floats up while you talk, because evidently you literally can't talk without your hands. "i have to save the day and there's this bomb and i have no bomb training and it keeps moving, you know."

"do i die?"

you peek up from your arms. "yeah. bigtime. you keep trying to run or stay or do anything and you always super die."

"oh."

"to be fair, like, everyone dies in it though.... so you're in good company."

i hate that you make me laugh. i hate that being around you always feels tingly and strange, this electric tension between us. something that is evidently (given how you stuck your tongue down a stranger's throat literally 3 days ago) (well. 3 for me) super one-sided. i take a sip of my coffee and close my eyes.

i die today, i guess. a little spark of panic starts at the top of my hands and starts whipping up my wrists.

"shit," you say. you look at your watch and jump to your feet. "i have to go. if i can come back, i will. i am still trying to figure out when is best to do everything, you know? the order of stuff. maybe morning isn't good for us."

i look up at you and think about how you keep kissing me in the back of my car and in alleyways and in the dark. and i can never fucking get a read on you. and i also think about how incredibly panicked you look. how broken. how long have you been doing this? "i don't want to die," i say.

you glance downwards. "well, you're not really dead, you'll come back in the loop."

"but i will have died." my hands are shaking. i am trying really hard to stay calm.

you push your hands through your hair again. "i really have to go. i will have this discussion with the next version of you, though. it is like, something i am thinking about."

"but i don't get a next version," i say. i don't really have the language for this, because i haven't had 26 tries with you. i only have my memories: you, a week ago. drunk and telling me you loved me in my ear. you, kissing her anyway. you, months ago, throwing up on my birthday, whispering to me i ruin everything i touch, always, over and over. please don't ask. i can't ever fucking have that be you.

i run my finger along the rim of the mug. "i don't want to die in this one."

you seem baffled by this. "i get that but - time will reset, you'll be fine, you won't even remember we talked about this."

"but i know now." i stand up too. "i have to live the rest of this day knowing i could die. knowing i probably am going to."

"you could always die, to be fair."

i feel my hands get out of control. "earlier, you said i always say a different insult about myself. what if you're just going through different parallel universes and those are all just different - but real - versions of myself? what if you're not in a time loop, you're in a fucking universe loop?"

"if it helps, i've wondered this too. also, you're hot in all of them. if that helps."

i point at you. "no flirting. i'm trying to figure out if i die today."

"who's flirting?" you catch my wild hands and give me that long, perfect smile. like we're in this together. "i won't let ya die." you check your watch and sigh again. "well. maybe not this time."

i grit my teeth. you are so not making quips at me while i try to explain the existential dread i'm having. "does the time loop reset if i fucking kill you?"

"honestly i don't know how long it continues after i die, because i just wake up. it could be that the loop goes until the explosion for everyone, and we're all in the loop, or it could be that when i die, the loop restarts. when i die i wake up, is all."

i pull away from you and stalk into the kitchen and start doing all 3 of my dishes. "okay, first, you know i was joking. and secondly, this is exactly my point. you don't know if this is just a parallel universe. maybe in the ones where you died, the explosion happened and nobody reset and it's just you travelling." i have to stop and push my heel into my eyeball. "... how often have you died?"

i look at you. you look at me. you give me this very sad, halfway smile and a little what can ya do shrug. something in that action seems so old and weary that i want to burst into tears.

"i have to go," you say. "really. for real. there's this family of five i save from getting into a car crash. and i know it's like oh but we're all gonna die in the explosion anyway, what's the point. and..." you shrug again. "it matters to me, is all. at least i saved them for now. at least i saved anything."

you pad over to me and wrap me in a tight hug. you always seem so tall against me. i feel your cheek rest against the top of my head for a moment. for a second, it's just us, and the space is warm, and my heart is a little broken hare.

you leave me there, and i stand in my stupid badly lit kitchen with my stupid mugs. i think about you. i start texting my mom that she needs to get out of the city, but it feels pointless.

i don't know what to do. tomorrow is the same day for you. but i have to prepare to die in my today.

[bookalicent]

yeah so this was insane

[weevmo]

Good evening,

You'll never guess what I just posted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/60479521/chapters/156202336#workskin

Enjoy 10k more words of content.

From,

Someone actually studding to become an engineer

I ENJOYED EVERY BIT OF IT AND CAINE ESPECIALLY BUT THIS -

THIS BIT MADE ME LAUGH SO HARD

[maxanor]

i'm not saying this to be callous or rude, but i think what's hitting a lot of buckt*mmys hard is that they're truly just unable to admit that they aren't very good at media analysis. the term 'media literacy' has become so overused in fandom that i genuinely think people forget what it means- it's a learned skill, something you have to study, something you can educate yourself on by reading papers and books and watching all sorts of movies and tv. they're all so convinced that the breakup came out of nowhere when it could not have been written more clearly; tommy has consistently been shown as an outsider in buck's life.

to claim that "everything was perfect" in 8x05 is so ridiculous i almost don't even know where to start. they had two scenes without eddie: in the first, tommy was incredibly condescending towards buck and and his interests (it's time to put away the screen, you already had your five minutes, lights out evan), and in the second scene buck literally says "my boyfriend won't even kiss me" and tommy responds with "that's not true" but they pointedly do NOT show them kissing. if the audience is meant to believe that buckt*mmy are endgame, it would have made perfect narrative sense to have them kiss right then to show (not just tell) us that tommy cares about buck, boils and all, and they did not do that.

moving onto 8x06, the only clue needed to show us they were going to break up was tommy buying buck lakers tickets. that's all it took. in 7x04 it's made so clear that buck does not like basketball. if tommy genuinely knew buck, he would not have bought him tickets to a sport the show dedicated an entire episode to telling us buck does not like! if their relationship was meant to last, tommy could have bought buck tickets to a fight in vegas like he did with eddie. this would have been a great callback, because it's supposedly the first moment buck got jealous of tommy and eddie hanging out. it would remind the audience that even though buck was jealous, he got tommy in the end and they're now doing the activities he wanted to do with tommy before.

once again, media analysis is a skill. no one is perfect at it, and ofc shows can throw away the book and make decisions that don't make sense. but to claim this came out of nowhere shows a severe lack of knowledge and understanding of how stories are written. the shippers were seeing what they wanted to see and they missed all the signs the show was sending them, and now they're claiming the rug was pulled out from under them.

[torchstelechos]

[Congratulations, congratulations, congratulations.]

[lucabyte]

A belief in Nominative Determinsim

[krazieka2]

Here's a big old Fire Emblem Search & Find I did for the FE3H Masquerade Zine! Find the Golden Deer, but see if you can't find the rest of the students as well! For the ultimate challenge, see if you can't name every character! (Disclaimer two characters are NPCs with no names)

[theonlymadmanonmars]

Hi hello hi. As an AroAce individual in a QPR who has no desire for a romantic or sexual relationship, I think shipping Alastor in QPRs is so so fun and people should do it more. I also think it works for a good amount if not all of the ships I've seen him in.

Alastor and Rosie: Hell yeah. They're already great friends and every interaction we've seen between them has been pure and adorable. Rosie Gently guiding Alastor through his identity because he isn't exactly up with the slang. Them going out for tea and human flesh Sunday afternoons. Them giving each other forehead kisses and holding hands platonically.

Alastor and Angle dust: Mhmm. Angle not really wanting Sex or romance after all he's been through. Angle respecting Alastor's identity and not pushing for anything more than friendship. Alastor not really liking Angle at first because of their differences, But tolerating him regardles. Alastor explaining to Angle that Romantic relationships don't have to involve Sex (I'm an Asexual Angle truther.) Angle offering Alastor a hug that Alastor reluctantly accepts. Them cuddling at night with a pinky Promise of nothing more.

Alastor and Vox: Go ahead. A fic about Alastor trying to Navigate exactly how he feels about Vox, Because when he died the term AroAce didn't exist, so he thinks it's romantic attraction, Maybe they kiss and Alastor is like "Ha! No!" Maybe that's why they had their falling out? Who knows.

Alastor and Lucifer: So So SO much Yes. (This is my personal favorite) The two of them hating each other, but putting up for each other for Charlie's sake. Slowly growing to actually tolerate and maybe even like being around the other. Exchanging snarky remarks in a more playful way. Alastor finding Lucifer sitting in a pile of ducks and despair and offering his hand to help him up and take him to the hotel. Never letting go of his hand. Fuck Enemies to Friends to Lovers I want an Enemies to Friends to Qpr arc goddamnit.

I do think it's okay to ship Alastor even outside of QPR's, BUT. If you do, don't just ignore Alastor's identity. AroAce people get far less representation than the rest of the LGBTQ+ community. I can think of one other canon Character off the top of my head. So it's not okay to erase the little rep we do get. In the end I think it's important to listen to what AroAce people have to say on the matter, it is our representation after all.

[sunny-knight]

Part 2 of my second favorite potential Forgettable!AU Gaster and Papyrus dynamic 😭😭😭

translation below:

This one is WAY more specific to the Forgettable AU not just Gaster and Papyrus as general characters

Forgettable!Gaster being like GlaDos from Portal…or a goofy grandpa…. hmmm…. EITHER WAY, whether these options of not, i’m gonna love it I just know it

I made an animation about this sorta dynamic a bit ago,

IM SOOO CURIOUS how Gaster feels about Papyrus cause honestly idk how id feel. Plus idek how aware of…normal things, Gaster is right now. Like emotions. And…opinions.

I think this dynamic has a lot of potential but also so does everything. Like he just H A T E S him so much for “replacing” him

Final boss moment vs therapy session moment CHOOSE YOUR FIGHTER FOR THE FINALE OF FORGETTABLE AU!!! or ofc theres always the secret 3rd option of I am completely wrong. Thats my favorite cause when I read it I need to pause for like 30 seconds longer than I normally do….

ALSO GANG WHOS SO EXCITED FOR THE DECEMBER/WINTER NEWSLETTER????? FINGERS CROSSED FOR ANOTHER PAPYRUS QNA!!!!!!!

[beebundt]

coraline in ms paint................. COMFORT MOVIE FR!!!

[odysseus-crewmate-number38]

its gotta suck being a kid at camp half-blood post toa if you aren’t cabin 7

like imagine having to accept the fact your godly parent probably doesn’t really care about your existence beyond being a tool for quests meanwhile Apollo’s crashing into camp for the 12th time today at 7:00 am in the morning to hang out with his kids + nico and meg

[robiinurheart33]

I’m obsessed with ghost being obsessed with soap.

The way he knows tidbits and fun facts about soap is just unparalleled to everyone despite ghost seeming unbothered. They go on missions together more than anyone else in the task force or god forbid, any other military they’re working with. As much as military life would like you to believe, there’s just as much waiting and planning than there is executing.

Soap is notoriously not patient. Ghost is, but only when it comes to work. Anything else he doesn’t have the time nor patience to deal with it. Unless it comes to Johnny. But no one will ever know that except for Ghost himself. But back to the point, they’re mainly on missions together and they stakeout together, they hide in itchy bushes for hours together, they stay in each other’s space, no matter if they want the other to or not. Soap cannot keep his yapper shut for the life of him and he’ll go stir crazy if he has to stay still for 2 whole hours. So he talks. Whispers, really so as to not give their position away. Ghost is a professional after all, he can split his concentration between the mission and Johnny. It’s endurance training. (Or whatever he tells himself anyways.)

Soap doesn’t mind the mindless talking if it helps him concentrate, and if Ghost doesn’t seem to be bothered then it’s all good. He knows that he isn’t actually actively listening, which is okay. He’s not offended, per se, but he feels an uncomfortable tightness in his chest whenever he looks back at Ghost as if it were an actual conversation to be met with nothing. Soap is a professional and damn good at his job at that, so he doesn’t let that bother him. (He doesn’t.)

One hazy night, Soap and Ghost (Ghost and Soap) are staking out a warehouse across the street, a bone-deep exhaustion hangs in the air as they both slump in their seats near the open windows. Cicadas make themselves known and the humidity doesn’t let down even in the night. Soap’s eyes are hazy, blinking ever so slowly and almost slipping shut for good a few times before he jolts himself awake.

“Go to sleep, Sargent.” Sargent. Ghost’s rough but tired voice cuts through his mind as he slides open his eyes again, not knowing they were closed in the first place. He rolls his head over to Ghost, where he’s sitting rigidly upright. To anyone, it would seem like he’s the picture of alertness, eyes trained out the window, posture perfect. But to Johnny, he can see that his fists are clenched too tight, his gun is still strapped to his side, and he hasn’t even taken a shower yet, when Johnny already has.

Guilt pangs softly in his chest, and he purses his lips in thought. Ghost wouldn’t take a shower now seeing that Soap was so tired. He would probably stay up the whole night staring out the window, sweat trickling uncomfortably down his back but still endure it for the opportunity for Soap to rest. He isn’t stupid, he knows there’s something between them that they can’t name, a connection that isn’t quite friends, but crosses the line of professionalism. Whether Ghost knows that or not is still up in the air for grabs. He pushes himself off the chair with a soft groan, sliding his bare feet over the wooden floors to the bathroom. He splashes cooling water on his face and rubs his eyes, blinking harshly. He stares at Soap in the mirror, and Johnny bristles a bit. He looks like pure shit. His eyes are bloodshot and tired, eye bags threatening to pull his eyelids closed, and he hasn’t shaved in quite a few days. Definitely not up to military regulation. He doesn’t bother to clock in the rest of himself now, wanting to focus more on Ghost than himself.

He walks back out to the shared living room, which is also their bedroom and kitchen, and behind Ghost’s chair. He bends down to swiftly unclip his vest off.

“Wha’ are you doing?” He doesn’t even sound annoyed, just tired.

“Gettin’ all this shite offa’ ya.” Soap doesn’t need to look to know that Ghost is probably even more tired than him. His Lieutenant with all the responsibilities under the sky, and no one to share that burden with.

The vest falls with a heavy thump on the ground and Johnny continues to clatter the remaining knives and guns onto the table, right beside their haphazardly placed maps for future ambushes. He pulls a knife from the sole of his boot, and Ghost huffs in amusement.

“Didn’t know you knew about that one, Johnny.” He’s Johnny now.

“I know everything about you.” It scares him a bit how it slips out that easily, but it scares him even more that he doesn’t take it back.

Ghost’s eyes bore into the side of his skull as he throws the rest of the equipment onto the table, keeping a gun in the pocket of his cotton pants. Johnny juts his chin towards the bathroom, arms akimbo.

“Go shower.” he doesn’t bother with a jab now, God knows they’re both off the table for that. It’s come to a point in the night where jokes lay to rest and honestly is the only thing left to say.

Ghost doesn’t look like he’s going to move and Johnny won’t blame him. He knows how hard it is to leave your post, how you scream at your body to move but nothing works. Nothing happens. Johnny’s eyes eventually hone in on Ghost’s eyes, trying to get a grip of what he’s feeling at the moment. Brown. It’s stupid, but Soap’s never been good with all the metaphorical side of describing things. Ghost’s eyes are brown. It’s brown. And it looks soft around the edges, calm and present, moving ever so slightly as he looks back at him. And they look at each other. And Johnny melts. He wants to melt and be safe in Ghost’s eyes and there’s nothing wrong now, there can never be anything wrong. How could it when the stars and the moon crafted them to orbit around each other so perfectly and intimately? And how could anything go wrong when this is the most right Johnny has ever felt in his life?

He feels his hand rise like silk, cupping Ghost’s cheek, like he’s done it so many times before. He hasn’t. Johnny’s not so sure what makes tonight different, or what changed, but he doesn’t want to question it. He’s not jinxing or screwing anything up this time. The cheekbone of the plastic skull digs into the palm of his hand and Ghost’s eyes droop. His thumb drags up and down, up and down right under his eye, not breaking the eye contact he has with Simon. He watches in real time as his eyes dilate and flutter, his head tipping forward, as if he could feel his touch over the plastic and the balaclava. Before Simon’s head could fall forward, eyes finally closing, Johnny grasps his face with both hands, murmuring.

“Hey, big guy. Not yet.” Simon’s eyes open again, looking up at him and Johnny wants to cry at how desperately he wants him to just relax right now, but he knows that if he isn’t completely safe and comfortable he’s be screaming awake 2 hours later.

“Shower.” He whispers. Ghost seems to snap back into reality slightly, standing up straight and towering over Johnny once more. Like this, his eyes seem black in the shadows, and things are jagged and sharp again. He grunts once, stepping out of their safe bubble and sliding into the bathroom, closing and locking the door with a click.

Johnny sighs softly as he sits down on Ghost’s seat, the wood still warm as he looks out the window. The gun burns where it’s pressed against his thigh, but maybe that’s just the absurd heat at the moment. His eyes are trained on the warehouse, leaning his elbows on his knees and letting his mind drift off for a bit. There’s no one in the warehouse at the moment, and any movement would be extremely obvious in the dead of night so he figured it would be okay.

Johnny thought of his family. He thought of the soft yearning he felt whenever he wanted to be small and tucked in his mother’s arms again. he thought of how accepted he felt if one of his older sisters threw an arm around his shoulder. He thought of his home back in Scotland, an empty living room with an aging woman who would spend the rest of her life waiting for children that were not guaranteed to come back. The sadness plagued his mind whenever he was alone, wishing he could come back as soon as possible to his home. To what? Put on the obnoxious military persona and acting as if he were immortal to not worry his family? He knows better than that. He knows he’s soft and pliable, that no matter how many muscles he builds, his body will always cave to a bullet. He knows his family will always worry and he can’t do anything about it.

Ghost steps out of the shower and Soap’s thoughts dissipate, head tilting in his direction. He’s swapped his hard skull mask for a clean balaclava, traditional hoodie and sweatpants. He looks…domestic, in a way. A too big man standing in a too small hallway, hunched over and fatigue evident. Love, Johnny realises, comes in many shapes and forms, but it all takes root in the same place.

Simon lumbers over to stand behind his chair, eyes boring down to meet his. Their positions have swapped now, Simon looking down while Johnny reaches up to meet his. Love is a gentle thing. Soap realises with a calmness that shouldn’t be there that he couldn’t pick between his family and Simon. His family meant the whole world to him, but Simon was his sunlight and his saviour. They floated in a nice limbo between everything, Simon and Johnny. Johnny and Simon. Love is a gentle thing.

“Go to sleep, Johnny. you’re tired.”

“You don’t kno’ that.” He’s slurring.

“I know everything about you.” The line is thrown back into his face, and Johnny’s eyes widen. He can feel the butterflies in his stomach, twisting in an exhilarating way. He swallows and watches Simon stare at his Adam’s apple bob up and down, eyes crinkling. Johnny’s a bit speechless, partly due to overwhelming fondness and partly due to his body screaming for a rest. Simon cares. He cares for Johnny. He thinks about him. He cares. He cares. He cares.

Love is a gentle thing.

“Aye.” John whispers.

All is right in the world, because Simon cares and his mother is at home waiting for him, and he is loved. Johnny is told to sleep, and so he will.

[wandasaura]

˚₊‧ wanda’s favorite student stops by for an advising meeting ‧₊˚

[biblically-accurate-dca]

day 4: angel & demon >:)

[ricky-mortis]

Curtwen Week Day 7: First Meeting/Last Words